Forty Shades Of Green
by Mandi5
Summary: Connor Green meets the beautiful Australasia de Chardonnay. He falls in love. She ties him up. But there's more to Connor than you might think. Please read and review!
1. Chapter 1

**Forty Shades of Green**

**A Fifty Shades Of Grey **

**fan fiction parody**

**(with some Twilight thrown in for good measure)**

By

Mandi Sheridan

_Disclaimer : Every single character, event and situation in this fan fic belongs to someone else. Even the title is a traditional Irish folk song - er - written by Johnny Cash. I don't own a single solitary part of this - except the keyboard I used to type it with - oh wait, I've just remembered - the keyboard belongs to my brother. _

_This is a work of fan fiction only and no fortune, vast or small, will ever be made from it._

_Author's note : This is quite possibly the worst thing I have ever written, and believe me, I've written some crap in my time! Please read it and feel free to review it and tell me just how terrible it is. I don't mind. In fact, I'd welcome it._

**Chapter 1 – An Accident Waiting To Happen.**

Australasia de Chardonnay – knows as Aussie to her friends and Down Under to the local baseball team - lay sprawled across the plush, leather-covered back seat of her dear daddy's chauffeur-driven limousine. Her designer blue jeans and expensive satin lace panties were pushed down around her perfectly sculpted ankles while she played with herself.

She was just about to come when the accident happened.

Parker cursed loudly and braked sharply, throwing her up against the sound-proof glass between her and the front seat as he expertly manoeuvred the big, heavy car to a perfectly executed halt.

"Sorry Mi-lady," Parker opened the glass partition and turned around to ensure that his passenger was unhurt, and apologise to her at the same time.

"Holy Poo!" Australasia exclaimed, as she stopped what she was doing to herself and raised herself up from the comfortable back seat and glanced around to see what was happening. "What the fuck?"

Some idiot had stepped out from the rain-sodden Seattle sidewalk into the path of the oncoming traffic and had tripped over his shoelace or something and fallen down in the middle of the road. The poor sod had fallen right into the middle of the mid-day downtown traffic! The car, in front of her dear daddy's limousine - a cheap Japanese model - had skidded to a halt, narrowly missing the idiot, and Parker had braked sharply, narrowly and skilfully avoiding running into the back of the little hatchback.

"Holy Poo! I didn't think they made cars so tiny," Australasia remarked as she peered over Parker's shoulder, through the rain-soaked windshield to get a better look at what was happening.

"I think someone has fallen, or been knocked down, mi-lady," Parker informed her.

"Holy Poo! Maybe I should take a look. Maybe I can help," she said, unlocking the door and starting to climb out of the plush limo. She had read a blog concerning an online first aid course last year and she knew a thing or two about emergency medical procedures and was therefore perfectly qualified to render roadside assistance.

"Maybe you should wipe yourself between your legs and put your clothes on first, mi-lady," Parker warned, reaching a pack of wet wipes over his shoulder towards her.

"Gosh, yes! Here, hold this for me," Australasia said, taking the wipes from Parker, and handing him her vibrator.

With a grimace of nausea and disgust, Parker took the eleven inch monster from her and held it gingerly between his finger and thumb. A forlorn sigh escaped from his lips and there was a yearning look in his eye. It was terrible, yet oh so tempting . . . . . .

Australasia saw his look. "It's mine, Parker. Behave."

"Sorry, mi-lady. It just – um – it reminds me of someone." Parker looked wistful. "His name was Hank, and he was the apple of my eye."

Parker was as gay as a piece of frilly pink ribbon and the only male member on her dear daddy's staff that her dear daddy trusted to drive her anywhere she wanted to go.

Australasia's daddy was the rich Texan oil and wine billionaire, JR Mewling, and she was his heiress and darling - his innocent and chaste - baby girl. At least her daddy thought she was innocent and chaste, and even catching her on her hands and knees, mouth wide open, in front of a queue of football jocks from the local high school, ready to pleasure them one at a time, didn't dispel the image he had of his perfect baby, his innocent and chaste, darling daughter, in his eyes.

For her daddy, denial wasn't just a river in Egypt.

But old JR knew his daughter was growing up, and at nineteen, she was fair game to any young buck with raging hormones and a notion to marrying into wealth and oil and wine-producing rights. So he charged faithful, testosterone-lacking Parker, with his limp wrist and penchant for big hairy, tattooed truck drivers, with the task of keeping his beautiful, virtuous baby girl safe from the predatory wolves who lurked behind every tree – lurking and waiting to steal her innocence and his billions.

But for all his shrewdness and skill at turning green grapes and black oil into green dollar bills, old JR was a bit of a yokel when it came to women. Australasia's mama - Sophia Cabernet de Chardonnay - had run off with an alcoholic country singer when Australasia had been only three months old and since then there had been a whole string of Mrs Mewlings. Australasia, missing her mother terribly, had taken her de Chardonnay maiden name as her own when she turned eighteen and her daddy couldn't do anything about it.

"I'm sorry but it sounds so much better than Mewling, daddy," she'd told him. JR couldn't deny that, he couldn't deny his baby girl much of anything, and so he agreed with only a little touch of sadness. It really was a much better name. He should have taken it himself.

JR was currently on honeymoon in the Bahamas with the current Mrs Mewling – this one would be his fifth wife - and she was a twenty-five year old red-head from New Orleans by the name of Dee-dee Bleujobe, known to her friends as DoubleD – because, well, that's what she had.

Dee-dee wasn't the brightest crayon in the box, but she knew a rich old man when she saw one, and, having learned how to fish on the bayou when she was ten, she knew how to hook a good catch. It had taken her two weeks. A personal record, she remarked to her inner gold-digger. JR was a big old river salmon just waiting for the bait and she dangled it in front of him and he snapped it, and her, up in no time at all, sliding a diamond ring the size of Vancouver Island onto her ring finger and at the same time sliding the index finger of his other hand into her, and telling her there was something much bigger to come.

"Jest as soon as ah get mah Viagra prescription renewed," he promised her.

Dee-dee ignored the probing finger and admired the weight of her sparkling diamond engagement ring and chose to let him think that she believed every word he promised because she really genuinely loved him - and the sparkling diamond life he could give her.

* * *

Australasia finished wiping herself, pulled up her panties and jeans, and threw the wipe out the window, eliciting a tut–tut of disgust from Parker, who hated litter-bugs with a vengeance. She ignored him and climbed elegantly out of the car. She gracefully walked to the front of the little Japanese hatchback – so tiny – she thought, and stopped dead in her tracks when she saw the hunk lying there in the middle of the road. His nose was bleeding and he had the makings of a really impressive bruise on his forehead. She took a moment to admire it, and him.

"Holy Poo!" she gasped as she took in the vision of him, lying there – helpless and broken – in his lovely grey jeans and sparkly t-shirt.

Blood from his bloody nose mingled with the sparkly sequined bits on the material, turning them amber, like his eyes, as it dried on his t-shirt. The bruise was reddish, yet already turning purple, making his forehead distinctive in a contrast to his strange, yet not unattractive, amber eyes. His face underneath the bruise and the splattering blood from his nose was pale, and yet this highlighted his thin, red lips and his impossibly white and strangely pointed teeth.

He looked to be in his early twenties, yet he had an aura of worldliness that seemed to be in battle with innocence. Australasia wasn't sure but she thought, she hoped, innocence was losing not just the battle but the whole war.

"Hi," she said.


	2. Chapter 2 Blood Red Full Moon

**Chapter 2 –Blood Red Full Moon**

Constantinople Green – was known as Connor to his friends and Clumsy Stan Big Hole to the high school bullies who had tormented and tortured him for most of his ahem – teenage years – until he killed seven of them one night during a full moon. He'd buried their bodies high in the Cascade Mountains where they haven't been found to this very day.

That particular incident had occurred three years ago last Tuesday and while the parents of the missing boys still mourned and wondered where their children were, most folks had forgotten all about them, figuring they'd run off to join a circus or become rent boys or something, as kids with no money and no hope and no talent usually do.

But occasionally, usually at Halloween, there'd be a few stories surfacing about the ghosts of Carl, Jimmy, Kevin, Wilber, Bobby, Jake and Edward – either all together in a pack, or individually – haunting the forest down by the lake shore. There they roamed - their restless souls unable to pass on into the hereafter until their deaths had been avenged and their killer brought to justice.

It had scared the holy poo out of Connor.

He was convinced one of them would return from the unmarked shallow grave he'd dug for them and tell the town that he had murdered them. Pointing a bony skeletal finger at him and accusing him of their torture and murder.

But his dad, bless him, had told him that there was no such things as ghosts and these were just plain old-fashioned nightmares, and not to worry because no one knew the truth - nor would they ever know the truth.

His dad, Doctor Dracul Green – Drak, or sometimes just DG to his friends, and that "money-grabbing blood-sucker" to his paying patients, had been a psychiatrist of some renown in New York before the ahem – accident - had happened and he'd had to move to this Godforsaken dump in the rain-sodden Pacific Northwest where the only decent job he could get was after hours school councillor, and he had to listen to the hormone-induced problems of adolescents who worried about their grades, or their acne, or their unwanted pregnancies.

And really all the good doctor wanted to do was kill them all, and dump their worthless bodies in unmarked graves high in the Cascade Mountains.

Despite being adopted, Connor was a lot like his father in some ways.

But in other ways he wasn't. His dad wasn't clumsy for a start.

Connor hated his clumsiness and it made him insecure and shy. He was at his worst around girls. His shoelaces came untied and his tongue got all tied up and he'd trip over his feet and his words, and then the girls in his class would laugh and point and whisper mean things and he really wanted to kill them. All of them. He wanted to make them bleed and scream and die slowly, begging him for the mercy he would refuse to give.

His dad told him he couldn't.

"Why not?" he whined.

"Because – well - because you just can't."

He didn't understand, but because he was a good boy he did as his daddy told him and restrained from killing anyone. It was hard but he counted to ten and that helped.

He was counting to ten now because he really wanted to kill someone, and he had just reached five when he looked up from the rain-sodden road where he had tripped and fallen in front of the car, and he saw her.

He stopped counting at six.

She was standing in front of him, licking her lips, with a concerned frown on her face. She was beautiful. She looked beautiful. She smelt beautiful. Of wet wipes. And something else – something primordial and ancient. Of life. And death. And sex. Animal sex.

Not _**with**_ animals of course - but like animals – rough, and harsh, and well – animalistic.

He inhaled her scent again, and he felt something harden in his trousers.

Oddly enough, he didn't want to kill her. He wanted to - - -

"Are you deaf or retarded or something? Didn't you hear me say hi?" she asked.

Okay, maybe he'd kill her afterwards.

* * *

to be continued


	3. Chapter 3 Ten Shades Of Blusher

**Chapter 3 – Ten Shades Of Blusher.**

Connor blushed furiously as he looked up at her from the rain-drenched road. Woah! His inner stud stallion looked her up and down, and reared up on it's hind legs and gave a loud, excited whinny.

"No, I'm not deaf," he informed her, reluctantly taking the hand she offered.

Australasia pulled him to his feet, her not-so-extensive medical training and even less extensive medical knowledge telling her that if someone could stand up then he probably wasn't seriously injured.

_Holy dose of the clap! He is hot! _She thought, as he stood before her. Her inner nymphomaniac was panting and screaming in the throes of the possibility of a potential orgasm with a real live human being, and not something made of latex that came with batteries not included.

"Are you okay?" She asked. "Can I give you a lift? We can - uh - go back to my place?"

"Um - yes. I'm okay," he mumbled. "I think. . . . Your place? Why?"

"Well, it's raining and you probably need some medical attention - or something - and besides, I feel kind of responsible for you," she told him.

"I'm fine. It's only a light rain shower. You don't even know me so how on earth could you possibly be responsible for me?" he asked warily. He'd heard all kinds of stories about city girls and their evil ways, and he knew he had to be very careful. A lot of bad things could happen. A lot of things could come out in the open. Especially the truth. And he didn't want that to happen. Oh no, not at all. If that happened it would be a total disaster.

But she was insistent.

"Get in," she ordered, grabbing him by the arm and propelling him towards the car.

He tried to struggle but she had his arm pinned behind his back and was pushing him towards the open car door.

"I - I - don't understand," he whimpered.

But she had no intention of explaining anything to him, at least not at this stage. She pushed harder and he staggered and fell into the back of the limo and lay there sprawled across the plush leather. He probably would have staggered and fallen into the car anyway, he usually did, but this time he didn't have to blame his clumsiness. This time he could blame her.

"You pushed me!" he said, angrily.

"Did not!" she told him.

"Did."

"Didn't."

"Did."

"Didn't."

"You fucking well did!"

"Shut up."

"Why?"

"Because I'll gag you if you don't. That's why."

She grinned and climbed in beside him. Parker started the engine and they drove off at speed, away from the scene. Away from the cute little Japanese hatchback car he'd been admiring as he crossed the road before he'd tripped and fallen. Away from his freedom. Away from his life. Away from the world he'd known.

She'd kidnapped him.

"You've kidnapped me!"

"No I haven't!"

"You have!"

"I haven't!"

"Have!"

"Haven't!"

"Have!"

"Haven't!"

"You fucking well have!"

"Oh, for fuck's sake!" Exasperated, Parker pressed the up button on the sound-proof glass partition. The silence that followed was golden. Parker breathed a sigh of relief and went on day dreaming about his date tonight. Some guy called Jerry he'd met on the internet.

"Who's he?" Connor asked.

"Parker? Oh, he's my driver. He's gay." Australasia told him.

He looked at her. Seeing her properly for the first time. She was drop dead sexy. She was beautiful. She looked stunning in her blue jeans and bright red halter top. She looked - - - - oh fuck! She looked smug? Like the cat that got the whipped cream. He was right. She had kidnapped him! But why?

"Why have you kidnapped me?" he asked.

"I told you I haven't "_kidnapped_" you as such," she replied, making little speech commas in the air with her fingers.

"Yes you have. You grabbed me and bundled me into the back seat of your car. That's kidnapping."

"No it isn't."

"Yes it is."

"No, it isn't. Kidnapping is nothing like this."

"Well, what's it like then?" he asked, not wanting to go down the whole is/isn't road again.

"Its, well - um - it's different," she replied.

"Different? How?" He asked.

"I don't know. It just is. And it has to be done by a kidnapper. And I'm not a kidnapper, so there!"

Okay she might not be a kidnapper, Conner decided, but she was definitely, without any shred of reasonable doubt - and the jury had just returned a unanimous guilty verdict - a raving, fucking, psychopathic, one hundred per cent certifiable nutcase! He was in more trouble than he realised. He tried the door catch but Parker had already locked the doors using the child safety locks.

Connor suddenly realised that he was trapped and that he was in the worst trouble of his life.

He began to cry.

* * *

To be continued


	4. Chapter 4 – Virgin On The Ridiculous

**Chapter 4 – Virgin On The Ridiculous **

As the limo stopped outside the apartment building he tried to escape. He almost made it.

"NO!" she screamed. "HE'S GETTING AWAY. STOP HIM PARKER! STOP HIM!"

He thought he'd made it until he was grabbed by the scruff of the neck and hauled back.

"What shall I do with him, mi-lady?" Parker asked, knowing full well what she had planned.

Australasia looked him up and down. "Mmmmm. Have him stripped, washed and sent to my room."

That was the last thing he remembered. Apart from some fuzzy images of Parker ripping off his clothes and hosing him down in the shower. Images he erased from his memory as best as he could, knowing full well they would someday come back to haunt him.

* * *

Connor regained consciousness slowly. He was groggy and felt sick. He also wanted to cry but managed to restrain himself for a few moments until he discovered that he was lying on a soft comfortable bed and tied at the wrists and ankles to the four bedposts. Once he realised just how restrained he was, his self-restraint left him, flying out the open window to freedom, and he burst into tears.

"Waaaaaaa!" he cried and struggled but the silken ropes that held him were just too strong. He gave up crying and struggling.

What had happened? He concentrated to clear his mind and remember the events that had led him to this nightmare.

She'd pushed him into the back seat of her limo, hurting his arm in the process. Then they'd driven for what seemed like hours until they stopped outside the imposing building. Then Parker had grabbed him as he tried to escape and the next bit was hidden deep in his mind and he preferred it to stay there. And that was all he remembered until he'd wakened up here, in this bed. In this very strange room.

"You're awake!" she said with a smile, frightening the living daylights out of him. He hadn't noticed her sitting at the foot of the bed.

He panicked. He screamed and he struggled. Nothing helped.

"Oh, you're such a Panicky Pamela!" she said.

"Why? What?" His inner scaredy cat was crapping itself in it's litter tray.

"I'm not going to hurt you. Much." She told him, a strange look on her face. "I fancy you like mad and I want you for my sex toy."

"What's a sex toy?" he asked.

"You."

"Me?" His voice was squeaky.

"Yes. You."

"I can't. I - uh - don't know. . . ."

"Don't know what?" she asked.

"Um - I don't know how."

She looked at him. "You mean…."

"YES! Exactly! I mean I can't….. you know. Do it. Because I've never done it before. I'm a virgin. I don't know how to do it. So really, you might as well just let me go now. I promise I won't tell a living soul that you kidnapped me."

He was planning on going straight to the nearest police station.

"Can't. Or won't do it?" she asked.

"Neither. I already told you. I don't know how," he told her cringing and blushing with embarrassment.

"You mean, you're really a virgin?" she exclaimed.

"Yes." _She is really fast on the uptake_, he thought.

"Perfect."

She smiled and moved towards him.

He began to cry again.

* * *

To be continued . . .


	5. Chapter 5 Love hurts Love scars

**Chapter 5 - Love hurts. Love scars. Love wounds and mars.**

Connor wakened to the dawn's early light filtering in through the bedroom window. He had no idea what time it was but guessed it was morning because of the aforementioned light and the sound of a rooster crowing somewhere nearby.

How a rooster ever came to be in the middle of Seattle was any one's guess.

He probably should be getting home but, he tugged at the cord that held his hands to the bedposts - they didn't look like they were about to come undone any time soon - and realised that there was little or no chance he'd be home before sun up. Something - he didn't know what, told him this wasn't good.

Yesterday, he'd been a twenty-five year old nearly normal guy, innocent in the ways of sex, living his life, going about his business, keeping himself to himself, staying out of trouble, and not killing too many people.

This morning he was a very, very frightened young man.

His wrists hurt where the ropes cut into them. Most of his skin hurt where she had spanked him. His throat was sore from screaming when she'd first of all produced, and then inserted, the butt plug, and his poor willy looked, and felt, like it had been mauled by a sex-crazed vacuum cleaner.

He wanted to cry, but he had no tears left. All he could manage was a sob or two. Beside him Australasia lay face down on the bed, snoring like a freight train.

He glanced at her - at the mascara smeared around her eyes. At the tossed hair. At the line of drool that fell from her mouth onto the pillow. Still she snored. Then she farted. Loudly.

She opened one eye and yawned and stretched. She let another fart and smiled at him. And Connor, bless his cotton socks that lay somewhere under the bed, looked at her and she smiled at him and he fell hopelessly in love with her.

* * *

For a while it was perfect. They made love. They laughed. They talked. She untied him and let him have a shower, and he didn't try to escape at all. Not once. For some strange reason all thoughts of escape were gone from his mind. They very notion of leaving here - leaving her - seemed foolish and pointless. All he wanted in life was here. In this apartment. In this room. In this bed.

She showed him her vast collection of sex toys and they tried several different ones. All at once. Now _**that **_had been painful. But fun in a sick and twisted, but very arousing kind of way. She showed him her collection of Westlife cds and that hadn't even come close to being fun. Just sick and very, very twisted. His inner boy band fan committed suicide.

She went to a closet and brought out her collection of whips and paddles and various other spanking implements. The pain had been pretty intense but nothing he couldn't handle. Especially when she explained about safe words and how to use them. "_**Fried Chicken**_" meant "_**I'm okay but go easy**_" and "_**Panda's are cute**_" meant "_**For fuck's sake stop. Now!**_"

"Why can't I just say for '_**for fuck's sake stop now!**_'" he asked.

"Because you have to say the safe words," she told him.

"Why?"

"Because I say so."

"But if I say "for fu . . . ."

"My game. My rules," she cut him off with a stern look. "Oh, and you have to call me mistress."

"Why?"

She glared at him.

"I mean, why mistress?"

"That's why," she told him. "Good boy."

She let him tie her up one night and while it was good fun, it just wasn't the same. Both of them agreed on this and reverted back to what pleased them both the most - him tied up and helpless, her having her wicked way with him.

He felt like he was one of those heroines in romantic paperback books - bodice-rippers they were called. The ones with raven-haired beauties endowed with magnificent plunging cleavages and dressed in tight bodices designed to show off their magnificent plunging cleavages, and who spent their every waking moment getting carried off by some handsome, well-hung, wild man and ravaged to within an inch of their lives.

Connor had a whole collection of these books at home and had read every single one - dreaming that one day something like that would happen to him, but knowing that it never would.

Until now.

She made him breakfast and fed it to him. Soft boiled egg and cute little toast soldiers.

She made him lunch and pretended he was her doggie and made him eat it out of a bowl on the floor. Then she took him walkies.

She made him supper and let him eat it off her body.

Life was perfect and Connor was in seventh, and quite possibly eighth, or even ninth, heaven.

Then he fucked up. He suggested they go and meet his family.

"Er - okay. If you want to," she sounded hesitant. "I don't really do the whole '_girlfriend-meeting-boyfriends-parents' _stuff, but if you want me to I will."

He really should have known when she used the air commas that something was up.

But Connor didn't notice - love is blind after all. Perhaps if he had noticed her discomfort and downright negativity at the thought of it, and he'd asked her what was wrong he might have seen the folly of it and changed his mind. But he didn't and he didn't notice the reluctance in her agreement, and he went ahead and made plans for them to visit his family that weekend.

* * *

To be continued


	6. Chapter 6 Speed Trap

**Chapter 6 – Speed Trap**

They'd been driving for what seemed like an eternity. Seattle was in the distant past - somewhere back there in the land of the rear view mirror. Australasia glanced in it, looking back, but there was only the blacktop she'd already travelled, and in front of her more of the same blacktop which she was about to travel.

She was bored. Connor was silent and strangely uncomfortable - worried now about the whole weekend - so she gave up on attempting to engage in any sort of conversation with him and tried a couple of radio stations instead. But all she could pick up out here in the sticks was country. Country. Country. And more country. She hated country music - which was perfectly understandable, what with her mama running off with that hard drinkin' country singer - Billy Bob Whatsisname.

She turned off the radio in disgust when she heard one of his hits begin to play.

"How much further?" she asked.

"A bit," he replied, still being Mr Talkative.

"How much is a bit?" she asked.

"More than a little," he replied.

"Holy poo! When you said you lived outside Seattle I didn't realise you meant on Planet Faraway."

"If you need a break, I can drive for a bit," he suggested, desperately wanting to drive the cool red sports car.

"I don't think so. I've seen how you drive," she replied.

He blushed furiously and became silent again. His inner god screamed at him – "_Idiot! Do you honestly think she'd let a dickhead like you drive her expensive sports car?"_

His inner god was correct. As always. His clumsiness was bad enough but when he got behind a wheel his co-ordination left him totally. He'd been in more fender benders than he'd had hot dinners and his police record spoke for itself. He was one traffic violation away from fifty hours of community service. All it would take was one more wrong turn signal and that would be the end of his driver's license.

He blushed even redder when he heard the distant, but quickly growing closer sounds of a police siren behind them, until he remembered Australasia was driving.

"Holy poo!" Australasia muttered and eased the speed down to a legal fifty-five miles per hour. She was one more speeding ticket away from losing her driver's license.

The police car drew up behind them and signalled for them to pull over. Australasia cursed like a sailor under her breath.

"Afternoon folks," Sheriff Rockford said pleasantly, as he leaned his head in through the open window, sneaking a quick sniff as he did so. He was sniffing for alcohol on their breaths but all he could smell was the very distinctive aroma of wet wipes, and something else - something that reminded him off Marlene, his wife. He frowned.

"What can we do for you officer?" Australasia put on her most polite voice.

"You were going a little fast there, young lady," he replied.

"I know. And I am so sorry officer. It's just – well – my boyfriend and I are going to his house to meet his parents. And they are having a special dinner for me – in my honour - and I so want to make a good first impression and we're running a bit late and I don't want to be late, because that wouldn't make a very good first impression, and so I was pushing it just a teeney weeney bit, but I was being very careful and paying real good attention to the road and all. And I'm sorry. You see, it's my first time. Um – my first time meeting his family, I mean. I so want them to like me because he means so much to me and well, if they don't like me, why I just don't know what on earth I'm going to do. And I promise and cross my heart that I won't ever drive fast again. Officer."

Australasia inhaled a deep breath. Her breasts in the low cut top she was wearing rose and fell.

Sheriff Rockford rose a bit himself at the sight.

"So where exactly are you kids heading?" he asked.

"Well, like she – Australasia - just said we're driving to my parent's house. It's up this road a few miles," Connor told him.

Sheriff Rockford jumped back in surprise. He hadn't really noticed Connor, what with Australasia and her low-cut top, and all.

"Woah! You wouldn't be one of them Cullens, now would you?" He frowned and his hand went to his gun in nervous anticipation.

"No sir," Connor answered.

"Whew!" Sheriff Rockford breathed a sigh of relief and his hand moved away from the gun. "You had me scared there for a moment boy. Thought you was one of them sparkly-assed freaks."

"No sir," Connor told him. "My daddy told me to stay from them and I always do what my daddy tells me. Especially when it comes to staying well clear of the Cullens."

"That's good son," Sheriff Rockford looked relieved. "As my old pappy used to say – don't have no truck with freaks. Especially sparkly-assed ones."

Connor blushed and nodded in agreement.

Sheriff Rockford looked at the two kids in the pretty red sports car. He seemed to be mulling something over in his mind.

Australasia took her deepest breath and her breasts rose up, almost spilling out of her low cut top.

Sheriff Rockford suppressed the moan that threatened to escape from his lips and he allowed himself a few seconds to enjoy the view while he could. Views like this didn't come along every day.

He looked at his watch and frowned. "Well, I'm in kinda a hurry myself today. My wife Marlene wants me home on time tonight. She's been reading some book – you know _**that**_ one that everybody's been talking about – and well, it's gotten her all in a tizzy and she's told me to get my ass home early this afternoon. My old pappy always said – don't judge a book by its cover. Now I don't know what it's about and I don't exactly know what pappy meant when he said that, on account of him being in his eighties and having Alzheimer's – but I do know that I gotta get myself home pronto or Marlene'll definitely take a strap to me. She's been doing that a lot lately - ever since she first started reading y'know . . . . _**that**_ book . . . . sooooooo . . . . ." he glared at Australasia and Connor, "I'm gonna let you kids run along but you have to promise me you'll slow down. I don't want to be scraping the pair of you off the road tomorrow. Ya hear me?"

"We do, Sheriff." Australasia told him, thrusting her chest out a little bit more. "We promise, sir."

"Good." Sheriff Rockford stood up, adjusting his trousers a little bit more. "Now you two drive straight to your folk's house afore it gets dark. No stopping off for a blowjob or whatever it is you kids do in cars these days. And stay away from those Cullens. Goddamn sparkly-assed freaks!"

He headed back towards his car.

Both Australasia and Connor breathed a huge sigh of relief. Australasia put the car into first gear and took off like a bat out of hell and laying down twenty feet of burning rubber in her wake.

"Kids these days," Sheriff Rockford smiled and shook his head.

* * *

to be continued


	7. Chapter 7 Meet The F kers

**Chapter 7 - Meet The Fuckers**

"Are you nervous?" Connor asked.

"Nervous? No, of course I'm not nervous. Why on earth should I be nervous?"

"Well – meeting my family for the first time and all that, you know?"

Australasia laughed. "I'll be fine."

Connor marvelled at her self-confidence and wished he had some himself.

She pulled confidently into the drive and brought the car to a halt, looked up at the imposing building and whistled softly.

"Nice," she said and Connor blushed with pleasure and the beginnings of a tiny inkling that he might have some self-confidence after all. This thought was immediately dispelled when his foot caught in the seat belt and he tripped and fell out of the car and landed on his face in the dusty driveway.

"I'm fine. I'm okay. I can manage," he called out to her as she walked around the front of the car towards the front door. He quickly got to his feet and brushed the dust off his clothes and face and followed her towards his front door.

As they opened the door and walked into the house, Australasia stared open-mouthed at the people inside. They were everywhere. Every seat was taken. Every step. Every windowsill. _There must be about forty people here, _she thought. _He never said that they were having a party! _

They were all staring at her. If she wasn't so self-confident and sure of herself she'd be nervous and quite possibly terrified. Maybe that's why Connor is like that, she wondered.

"Oh, I didn't know it was a party," she told him. "I thought it was just your family."

"Er - this is my family," he replied.

"What?"

"My mom and dad, and all my brothers and sisters."

"Your brothers and sisters? Holy spermicidal failure! Um -just how many brothers and sisters do you have?"

"Um - I don't know - exactly," he blushed and squirmed in embarrassment. "Lots."

She stared at him. "Seriously?"

He nodded.

"Holy fertilised ova!"

Just then a tall, dark haired man stepped towards them. He was well dressed and immaculate. Handsome in an old worldly way. And very, very - uncomfortably - familiar. He was familiar in a didn't-I-treat-you-for-something-nasty kind of way.

"Australasia, this is my dad," Connor said. "Dad, this is Australasia."

"My dear. Such a pleasure to meet you. Again." Dr Green smiled and took her hand. His eyes met hers.

"Er - yes. It is," Australasia replied.

"I take it that your - ahem - little problem is all cleared up now?" he asked her.

"Um - yes. Great ointment. It worked at treat. Cleared it up in no time," she told him, suddenly remembering where she knew him from - remembering the STI she had picked up in her last year of high school and she had gone to Dr. Green for a prescription. Her inner slut cringed with embarrassment.

Dr. Green smiled. "Yes. STI's can be a real pain in the - well, we all know exactly where they're a pain, don't we? - to get rid of . . . . . but it's so lovely to meet you again Miss de Chardonnay, and to see you - here - with my son. I just hope he doesn't catch anything from you."

Australasia chose to let the last remark slide and smiled politely. Dr. Green smiled politely back at her but there was an underlying look in his eye that told her - _"I've got the measure of you, bitch."_

"_Fuck off," _she smiled back at him.

"_No, you fuck off," _he smiled back at her.

"_In your dreams, creep," _she smiled sweetly.

"_You're my worst nightmare come true,"_ he smiled sincerely.

"_Yeah, but I'm your son's wet dream," _she smiled back equally as sincerely.

"_Bitch," _he smiled

"_Shitface," _she smiled.

"_Slut," _he smiled.

"_Vampire," _she smiled accusingly. Her inner vampire slayer had grabbed a pointy stick and was holding up a garlic infused crucifix.

"_I'm going to kill you for that remark," _he stopped smiling.

"Er - come and meet my mom and the rest of the family," Connor said, taking her by the arm and gently pulling her away from the glaring eyes and evil smile of his dad, and before this war of smiles turned nasty.

"Mom, this is Australasia. Australasia, this Sue-Ellen - my mom."

Sue-Ellen hiccupped a hello, staggered towards the kitchen, took a large bottle, three-quarter's empty - or one quarter full - depending on how one looked at these things, out of the fridge, added some ice cubes to a tall glass and proceeded to pour herself another very, very large vodka on the rocks.

"And these are my brothers and sisters," Connor sensibly steered Australasia away from his mother so he didn't have to explain about her drinking problem.

"This is Hawkeye."

"Hello Hawkeye."

"This is Trapper John."

"Er - hi."

"This is Mary Ellen."

"Um - hi. Pleased to meet you."

"That's Erin. This is John Boy. Over there is Jason, Jim-Bob, Ben, and Elizabeth."

"Hi. Hello. Um - hi. Pleased to meet you. Hi." Australasia smiled and nodded and shook their hands.

"This is Starsky. The blond one is Hutch. And that's Cagney - also blonde. This is Lacey." Connor smiled goofily. "As you've probably guessed from her dark hair, she's not blonde.

"Er - yeah. Hi. Hello. Hi."

"This is Marge. This is Lisa. This is Bart. That's little Maggie. And this is Homer. You know Homer, don't you? I think he was in your year in high school."

"Um, I'm not sure," she said. _Of course he wasn't. He's a frigging cartoon character! I'm caught in an issue of TV Guide! He's yellow for Christ's sake! And he only has three fingers! _Her inner TV addict screamed and reached for the remote.

"This is Bones, Scotty, Spock and Kirk - but he only answers to James T."

"Er - ok-ay, hi." Australasia smiled politely.

"This is Smokey, and this little guy in The Bandit."

"Um, hi," Australasia was beginning to see a pattern emerging and the whole day was getting weirder and weirder by the second. She swallowed nervously.

"This is Mulder, and this is Scully."

"Ha Ha. Of course it is!"

Connor gave her a funny look but she ignored him so he carried on.

"This is Buffy. This is Spike. This is Angel and Darla and Drusilla. And Xander. And these pair are Willow and Tara."

Australasia nodded. He inner lesbian popped her head up from under the covers. She knew a pair of muff-munchers when she saw them, and not being adverse to a bit of girl-on-girl action herself, she gave first Willow, then Tara, a special smile and a suggestive wink.

Tara blushed. Willow glared. Connor led her away quickly.

"And this is Barak and this is Michelle."

"Hello, your worship - er - worships," Australasia, despite having voted republican, bowed reverently.

Connor pulled her upright. "Are you okay?"

"A bit light-headed. I'll be fine in a minute," she told him.

His father came rushing over. "Do you need anything?"

"No, dad," Connor replied. "We're fine."

But Australasia wasn't fine. And she needed something. Fresh air probably. She needed to get out of this house and away from these freaks. She looked around, frantically searching for a way to escape. All the doors were closed and the windows shut tight. Anyway, there was about a hundred people all around her, staring at her. Escape was pretty much impossible. She was trapped and knew she would just have to tough it out if she could.

She smiled politely when Connor's mother announced that "dinner was ready, in the um …. dining room, or someplace, where they. . . where we serve dinner. . . or something. Hic. Pardon me, " and handed her a large glass of vodka.

* * *

The vodka helped and she got through the evening with life and limb intact. As she yawned and tied Connor to the bed and got undressed she resolved to go home in the morning.

"But we're here for the weekend?" Connor whined.

"_Did I say that out loud? I'm sure I only thought it," _she frowned distractedly as she climbed into bed beside him and took out the nipple clamps.

_**(Author's note - you already know what happens next so I'm not going to bother writing this part. Let's just say that there was a lot of pain and whimpering and multiple orgasms involved. )**_

to be continued._  
_


	8. Chapter 8 Deja Vu

**Chapter 8 - Deja Vu **

They'd been driving for what seemed like an eternity. Connor's home was thankfully now in the distant past - somewhere back there in the land of the rear view mirror. Australasia glanced in it, looking back, but there was only the blacktop she'd already travelled, and in front of her more of the same blacktop which she was about to travel. Taking her home to Seattle and safety.

She should have listened to the tales she'd heard about this place. Strange tales of vampires and werewolves. It seemed the whole Pacific Northwest was riddled with vampires. Vampires and rain. From the Cullens up the road to Connor's family. She'd tried to believe it wasn't true but what had happened that morning confirmed her very worst fears.

Her period had started.

Normally that wasn't much more than a nuisance but there in that house with all those vampires she knew she was fucked. She was reaching into her overnight bag for a Tampax when she heard them - pawing and scraping on the bathroom door. Moaning and whimpering. Baying for her blood.

She inserted the Tampax and dressed quickly, wondering how she would be able to get past them and out of the house.

Then she had a really brilliant idea. An idea that outshone all other ideas. One of the best ideas she'd ever had.

She pulled out the Tampax and looked at it. She smiled.

"Well, I've heard it said - **_that one man's Tampax is another man's teabag _**- so here goes."

She opened the bathroom door and chucked the bloody Tampax out among them. She chuckled as they clutched and grabbed and snarled and fought each other over it.

While they were fighting over the tampon, she rushed to the bedroom, untied Connor, threw his clothes at him and pulled him past the heaving, angry, snarling, blood-thirsty mob, and together they ran out the front door towards her car. They got in and she took off like a bat out of hell towards Seattle and safety.

* * *

She was bored. Connor was silent and strangely uncomfortable - upset now about the whole weekend - so she gave up on attempting to engage in any sort of conversation with him and tried a couple of radio stations instead. But all she could pick up out here in the sticks was country. Country. Country. And more country. She still hated country music and turned off the radio in disgust when she heard another one of Billy Bob's hits begin to play.

"Holy poo!" Australasia muttered and eased the speed down to a legal fifty-five miles per hour as the police car drew up behind them and signalled for them to pull over. Once again, Australasia cursed like a sailor under her breath.

"Morning folks," Sheriff Rockford said pleasantly, as he leaned his head in through the open window, sneaking a quick sniff as he did so. He was sniffing for alcohol on their breaths but all he could smell was the very distinctive aroma of wet wipes, and something else - something that reminded him off his wife, Marlene, when she was having her monthlies. He frowned.

"What can we do for you officer?" Australasia put on her most polite voice.

"You were going a little fast there, young lady," he replied.

"I know. And I am so sorry officer. It's just – well – my boyfriend and I have been at his parent's house and they had a special dinner for me – in my honour - and I think I made a very good first impression, but now we're heading home because we have sooo much to do and, unfortunately, we're running a bit late and I don't want to be late, because well, I hate being late, and thankfully I wasn't this month. Actually you don't know just how thankful I am that I wasn't late this month, and so I was pushing it just a teeney weeney bit because I need to get home very quickly and buy some more Tampax because I …. er….. well, because I threw my last one away. And I'm sorry. You see, it's the first time. Um – the first time I've ever thrown a tampon away. But I really, really had too, and it was my last one and I really, really need to get home to get another box of tampons. If I don't, why I just don't know what on earth I'm going to do. And I promise and cross my heart that I won't ever drive fast again. Officer."

Australasia inhaled a deep breath. Her breasts in the low cut top she was wearing rose and fell again.

Sheriff Rockford rose a bit himself again at the sight.

"So where exactly are you kids heading?" he asked. "And why am I getting that strange feeling? The one where I get the feeling I had this conversation before but I can't remember when or where. You know that feeling? It has a funny name. I can't remember what it's called . . ."

"Deja Vu," Connor told him.

Sheriff Rockford jumped back in surprise. He hadn't really noticed Connor, what with Australasia and her low-cut top, and all.

"Woah! You wouldn't be one of them Cullens, now would you?" He frowned and his hand went to his gun in nervous anticipation. Again.

"No sir," Connor answered.

"Whew!" Sheriff Rockford breathed a sigh of relief and his hand moved away from the gun. "You had me scared there for a moment boy. Thought you was one of them sparkly-assed freaks."

"No sir," Connor told him. "My daddy told me to stay from them and I always do what my daddy tells me. Especially when it comes to staying well clear of the Cullens."

"That's good son," Sheriff Rockford looked relieved. "As my old pappy used to say – don't have no truck with freaks. Especially sparkly-assed ones."

Connor blushed and nodded in agreement.

Sheriff Rockford looked at the two kids in the pretty red sports car. He seemed to be mulling something over in his mind.

Australasia took her deepest breath and her breasts rose up, almost spilling out of her low cut top.

Sheriff Rockford suppressed the moan that threatened to escape from his lips and he allowed himself a few seconds to enjoy the view while he could. Views like this didn't come along every day.

He looked at his watch and frowned. "Well, I'm in kinda a hurry myself today. My wife Marlene wants me home on time again tonight. She's still reading _**that**_ book and well - she's still in a tizzy and she's told me to get my ass home early again this afternoon. My old pappy always said – don't judge a book by its cover. Now I still don't know what it's about and I still don't exactly know what pappy meant when he said that, on account of him being in his eighties and having Alzheimer's – but I do know that I gotta get myself home pronto or Marlene'll definitely take a strap to me again. She's been doing that a lot lately - ever since she first started reading y'know . . . . _**that**_ book . . . . sooooooo . . . . ." he glared at Australasia and Connor, "I'm gonna let you kids run along again, but you have to promise me you'll slow down. I don't want to be scraping the pair of you off the road tomorrow. Ya hear me?"

"We do, Sheriff." Australasia told him, thrusting her chest out a little bit more. "We promise, sir."

"Good." Sheriff Rockford stood up, adjusting his trousers a little bit more. "Now you two drive straight back to Seattle afore it gets dark. No stopping off for another blowjob or whatever it is you kids do in cars these days. And stay away from those Cullens. Goddamn sparkly-assed freaks!"

He headed back towards his car.

Both Australasia and Connor breathed a huge sigh of relief. Australasia put the car into first gear and took off like a bat out of hell and laying down twenty feet of burning rubber in her wake.

"Kids these days," Sheriff Rockford smiled and shook his head. Again.

**(Author's note - surprisingly, this chapter was NOT sponsored by Tampax)**

to be continued**  
**


	9. Chapter 9 Breaking Wind

**Chapter 9 - Breaking Wind.**

"But why?" he whined and started to cry again.

"Because I said so." She replied.

"But I love you," he cried.

She laughed. "But I don't care about love. I don't do the whole _'**true love and relationships'**_ thing."

She was using the air commas again. He hated it when she did that. But more importantly he hated that she was breaking up with him. If it meant she wouldn't break up with him he would let her use air commas all day, every day.

He told her this, thinking it might change her mind.

"Look Connor," she said firmly. "You have to understand some things about me. About who I am - what I am."

"You mean - you're a vampire. Like me," his eyes lit up in hope.

"No. I'm not a vampire."

The light of hope went out of his eyes.

"Then what are you?" he asked. "Not a werewolf. Please god, don't tell me you're a werewolf. You are, aren't you? I feel sick. I've been having sex with a werewolf. Oh, god! This is terrible. Did we do it doggie style? I can't remember. I don't want to remember. A werewolf! I did it with a werewolf! Oh god, I'm going to throw up. I feel awful. A werewolf! Ohgod-ohgod - - - -oh dog. Yeuch!"

"Connor."

"What?"

"Shut up."

"Why?"

"Because I need to tell you something and I need you to be quiet and listen to me. Now can you do that for me?"

"Yes."

"Promise."

"Yes."

"My name isn't Australasia. Well it is, but it wasn't always. My real name, my original name was Mary-Sue. I was named after my mother. And before she ran off with Billy Bob Cash, or Jennings, or whatever he was called, and changed her name to Sophia, she was a fan fic writer."

"What's that?"

"Well, a fan fic writer is someone who writes non-profit fiction based on other writings - books, TV shows, movies. Stuff like that. I think it all started with Star Trek and some Kirk/Spock slash."

"Slash? What's that?"

"Um - well, it's same sex stuff involving Captain Kirk and Mr Spock. Stuff that you wouldn't _**ever**_ see on Star Trek. But that's not important right now. What is important is that . . ."

"It'll be important if Mrs Kirk and Mrs Spock get to hear about it."

"What?"

"Well, there'll be intergalactic divorces if I'm not mistaken. Whew! If this gets out there'll be living hell to pay. Kirk and Spock. Wow! Who'd have thought. I could understand maybe Kirk and Doc McCoy, or even Scotty, and I've always had my suspicions about Captain Picard and Data in Star Trek: The Next Generation, but Kirk and _**Spock! **_Jeez!"

"Connor, shut up."

"Sorry."

"Where was I? Oh yes, my mother was a fan fic writer, and she was famous in her particular genre. . . ."

"Star Trek slash?"

"What? No. I think she wrote X-Files and Buffy fics. But that's not the point she was well-known on fan fic sites as Mary-Sue, and I was named after her so when she hooked it with Billy Bob Kristofferson, or Nelson or whatever he was called, my dad decided to change my name to spite her and to keep me from getting a reputation as a Mary-Sue, because apparently, it is a type of really awful fan fiction all on it's own. I've heard that she still writes a lot of fan fiction but I've never read any of it."

"Why not?"

"Because it's crap. Er - so I've been told."

"And this is why you're breaking up with me?"

"What? No. I just wanted to tell you about my mother and about how I got my name. I'm breaking up with you because you're a vampire."

"I don't understand."

"You don't have to. I don't have relationships with the undead. I don't have relationships at all. I meet a guy, and if I like him I keep him prisoner for a few weeks and I have my wicked way with him. Then I dump him."

"But I love you."

"I don't care. Besides, vampires can't love. They don't have souls. Well Angel did, but he was on some **'**_**special redemption' **_journey. . . ." she used the air commas again. "Oh, and Spike did too at the end of the series. But generally vampires don't have souls."

She had a point there, and Connor, despite the air commas, acknowledged it, and started crying again.

"Connor. Hel-lo."

"What?"

"Are you going to stop crying?"

"No."

"Well, will you please go and cry somewhere else. I have a date tonight and I have to get ready." She smiled at him and pointed to the door.

Connor stopped crying and looked at her and remembered all the good times they'd shared. How she had tied him up. How she had laughed when he screamed as she inserted the butt plug. How she had spanked him and whipped him until his skin stung. How could he live without her? He couldn't. He just couldn't.

He grabbed her and sank his teeth into her neck and drank deeply. He drank and drank and drank. She struggled at first, but still he drank and gradually she weakened and whimpered against him. He drank on. Until her heartbeat grew weaker and weaker - finally stopping forever. He drank until there wasn't a drop of blood left in her body.

She wouldn't be needing tampons again.

Sated, he let her fall gently onto the bed. He looked down at her, and gently pushed a lock of her hair away from her forehead. He gazed down at her on the bed, where she lay there, so beautiful in death.

Connor smiled, wiped the blood from his lips and walked out of the door.

The end.

Well, probably not because . . . . yes, you've guessed it. She's a vampire now!

No, seriously, this is definitely the end.

The End.

A. Sheridan August 2012


End file.
